| Draw me a house, yes, such that it suits!
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| In a trump suit, it would be better in a tambourine
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| In that house, indicate a place where to fall,
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| To fall asleep and not hear the call of the heralds of the trumpet
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| Draw me a house, yes, such that I live,
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| Yes, such that they do not interfere with life
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| Where, tired of fighting, I would save up strength again,
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| And in which no one would ever sting me
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| I would myself, I would myself,
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| Yes, I'm afraid I can't
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| I can't find these semitones
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| Through dense forests
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| I ride everything, I ride everything on a horse,
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| And in cold sweat
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| A day later I wake up from sleep
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| Draw a hearth, even on a rough canvas,
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| On a brick wall, just to pull
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| Draw so that the fist crunches,
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| And from cold eyelashes a warm house once blew
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| I would myself, I would myself -
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| There are no treasured colors,
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| I only know two, I squeeze them with my hand
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| That white stripe
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| That black is hopeless,
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| Would rassine Yes, I don’t have such a watercolor
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| Draw me, yes, such that in a cry,
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| So that my mother is not afraid for her son
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| Draw me as a crane just for a moment,
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| I want to look at people from the height of a crane wedge
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| I would myself, I would myself,
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| Yes, the brushes break
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| Only the vulture is given fingers to endure rebellion
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| And they fly, and they fly, and they fly into the sky,
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| Leaves rise into the clouds
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| These notes, bitter notes,
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| Flew around from broken strings |